


Curiosity's Sake

by MysticalMistress (BridgeToTheSky)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I suppose, In more ways than one, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Tom is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/MysticalMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simple. Carnal. Just another one of many human weaknesses that he hoped to be one day rid himself of. </p><p>Normally, he’d be able to fight it. But … he admitted that he was curious, and you were available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity's Sake

Simple. Carnal. Just another one of many human weaknesses that he hoped to be one day rid himself of.

Normally, he’d be able to fight it. But … he admitted that he was curious, and you were available.

So when Borgin retired for the day and the final bell of the front door at Borgin and Burkes rang for the night —

“ _Tom_ —”

“Shh …”

His hushing was soft, and so was his finger against your lips. Tom Riddle gave you no means of escape, crowding you, backing you further into the shelf.

“I’m only trying to say maybe we should rethink —”

“You worry too much,” he chastised. His voice was still very gentle as his hand palmed you, slipping itself into the confines of your panties and delighting in what it found there. He began to massage your labia. Your head fell back, exposing your neck for Tom’s lips to explore.

Your hands clung to his back as he pressed into you, two of his fingers pressing themselves into your depths —

“Oh, Tom!”

A facial movement; either Tom was smirking against your neck or suppressing some sort of triumphant chuckle. Possibly both.

No lights, but you knew where the door was. Pray that the door to the supply closet remained closed, your eyes fluttered shut, the cardboard edges of one of the many boxes stacked pierced the skin of your back, hardly sensed due to Tom’s much more entertaining ministrations.

His lips were ravaging your neck, teeth grazing and occasionally sinking themselves into your flesh in a very vampirish manner. His tongue slipped out to lap at your abused flesh, his other less occupied hand found work meddling with your breasts, tugging at the infernal bra that kept them from his full grasp.

“See?” he said against you. “You want to be doing this. Everything is all right …”

You felt his hardness against your thigh, and couldn’t resist the need to palm it for yourself, measuring his length with only your hand. Tom sucked in a hard breath, flicking at your clit. He knew it was a must from simple boyish conversations he’d had during his time at Hogwarts. His fingers were assaulting your sex, pumping relentlessly. Your clothes clung to you from the heat of the closed air. You could feel Tom’s hand finally find your nipple and give a hard tweak right at the precise moment you needed him to and —

“Tom, Merlin!”

Your mouth hung open as you rode out your orgasm against Tom’s adamant hand, your juices soaking his palm. You shuttered as you came apart against him, feeling weightless from the sudden flutters of kisses Tom laid against your shoulder and raw neck, his second hand working your nipple to annoyed sensitivity.

His hand abandoned your breasts to work on the zipper of his work trousers.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked.

You failed the catch the truly robotic, mechanical edge of his inquiry, moving your hand to your chest where within your heart was still pounding from your orgasm.

“Yes … are … I don’t know, Tom …”

But your words were so feeble Tom paid no mind to them, pressing against you again once he had retrieved his manhood from his trousers. You leaned toward him, and he pressed his lips against yours. His movements once again somewhat robotic in how his lips formed over yours, until a second or two of studying how you moved against you. He mimicked your actions, thrown off only when you slipped your tongue into his mouth, massaging his tongue with your own. Tom met you with a new surge of enthusiasm, swirling his tongue over yours, positioning himself against you, lifting your leg up with his free hand and forcing your head close to him with his other.

Finally, a thrust and you yelped against the kiss. Surprise, not pain, for you were not a virgin and hadn’t been for quite some time. Tom’s hand trembled against the back of your head as he gave more thrusts, seemingly from the adrenaline of it all — you bucked against him, your hands pressed to his cheeks, and Tom emitted a soft sound of surprise.

Soon, a rhythm; you met his thrusts, the metal of the shelves jangling with the passion of your actions. Your moans were hushed, nonexistent as Tom’s mouth remained over your own, his tongue delighting in yours. His fingers found your clit again, working it with pale, slender fingers.

You could feel him losing some of his composure against you; shallow breaths, his other hand dug its nails into the meat of your thigh. His thrusts were wild now, causing you to go sore from the constant pounding.

You sighed as your orgasm came to claim you for a second time. A simple “ah!” and Tom pulled away from you, his manhood leaving your sheath. Your eyes were closed, lost in your climax. You worked your sensitive nubs, riding it out again.

Tom’s head was swimming. Intoxicating … perhaps he was missing something in matters of the flesh; he had been waiting to be entirely unimpressed, but that …

Tom pulled forth his wand and murmured something you could not hear, cleaning up his mess before fastening himself up and remembering himself.

He made sure his voice was the one of soft, gentlemanly Tom once he spoke, “I’m very sorry for abandoning you there; I didn’t mean to behave like such a savage …”

“It’s all right, Tom,” You said, smiling. You clung to his arm, positively cuddling him as the duo of you exited the closet. “Thank you … it was truly amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear of it,” Tom replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as darkened the lights of the shop. “Do you want me to escort you home?”

“No, Tom, I think I’m all right to go on myself.”

“Nonsense,” he said, brushing a finger against your cheek.

“I mean it, Tom. I can …”

Thank the _gods_ ; he was hoping his insistence would further pressure you into insisting yourself. If you had accepted, he would have had to accept.

Tom soothed himself; soon, he wouldn’t need to do this anymore, wear the skin of a pathetic orphan boy.

Soon, he would be unrecognizable.

And then he would not be the kind of person any would want to escorted home with.


End file.
